


Lifemates

by OtterlyDeerlightful



Series: Lifemates AU [9]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Aging, Birthday Party, Lifemates - Freeform, M/M, Soul Bond, fluffy feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 05:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11730639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtterlyDeerlightful/pseuds/OtterlyDeerlightful
Summary: It's Sportacus' birthday. And Robbie...has no idea how old he is. How could he not know how old his husband is? And why does he look like they haven't aged a day in over ten years?





	1. Cake

**Author's Note:**

> Yes! The namesake of the AU!! ermergerd etc.
> 
> This was what I was ORIGINALLY trying to write when The Perfect Gift decided it needed to be written first. It ended up being a lot longer than I originally intended...yeesh.

Robbie prided himself on being a connoisseur of cakes. He had baked countless numbers of the confectionary creations over his lifetime and devoured far more than even that. While the classic chocolate cake would always have a special place in his rotten heart, he would be hard pressed to find a breed of dessert he completely disliked. Devils food, coffee, cheesecake, King, ice cream, red velvet, batik, butter, angel food, upside-down, black forest, rum, sponge…he loved them all individually. Except maybe fruitcake. Those things were just an abomination that didn’t deserve the _cake_ title they so deceptively flaunted. Yes, Robbie knew and loved cakes inside and out. And this, he quickly determined, was the strangest, most alien ‘cake’ he had ever made in his life.

“What on earth—? What’s a cannellini bean? Are they just making up words?” he demanded as he loomed over the recipe, scrutinizing the strange list before him.

 “Ugh. This is the _worst_ shopping list I have ever had the displeasure of making,” Robbie grunted as he copied down the offensive words on a bit of scrap paper. “He’d better appreciate all this,” he grumbled to himself before grabbing the list, an old canvas bag, and braced himself for an apparently necessary trip to the store.

The day was overcast, but comfortable. It was, in a word, _nice_. At least to Robbie’s standards. Unfortunately, the mild temperature also meant that every child in town seemed to be outside to take advantage of it.

“Hi, Mister Rotten!”

Robbie cringed as a child ran up to greet him. Their brown ponytail bobbed and swished behind them as they went. He immediately recognized the brat as one of the newer additions to the town. For some bizarre reason, the girl seemed to have taken an instant liking to Robbie, though he couldn’t quite understand why. Every time she spotted him she was seemingly compelled to wave or say hello or, if he was really unlucky, leave her playmates completely and follow him around for a while chatting about childish nonsense. Robbie prayed that wouldn’t be the case today.

“I haven’t seen you in forever, Mister Rotten! Where’ve you been?”

He sighed and looked down at the girl. “Hello, Jolly,” he grumbled.

She giggled. “ _Joy!_ ” she corrected in obvious amusement. “You’re super bad at names, Mister Rotten.”

“Yeah, well, all the racket you guys make kills off a lot of brain cells,” Robbie mumbled.

He glanced up at the group that Joy had just abandoned. Most didn’t seem to notice her absence, probably because she left them so regularly for stupid reasons…like hunting down Robbie while he tried to go about his daily life. The only one of the group who apparently noticed the girl’s exit was a familiar man dressed in blue. Their eyes met and the man in the stupid blue hat raised a hand over his head, waving enthusiastically at Robbie. The villain rolled his eyes with an amused smile and gave a subtle wave in return. Satisfied, Sportacus went back to whatever horribly healthy thing he was doing. Robbie was brought back to the moment when Joy decided she needed to speak to him again.

“Whatcha got a bag with you for?” the child asked curiously, pointing at the canvas in Robbie’s hand.

“Shopping. What’s it to you?”

The girl shrugged. “I dunno. Whatcha shoppin’ for?”

The man groaned, then lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “If you _must_ know—” The girl smiled up at him innocently. “—I need to get a few things for Sportaflop’s birthday party. _Don’t tell him._ ”

The child’s face lit up instantly. “Oh yeah that’s today!” she squealed before clasping her hands tightly over her mouth.

“Not so loud!” Robbie scolded sharply, waving at her to quiet down.

Joy quickly threw her hands over his mouth and glanced over her shoulder to make sure she hadn’t attracted any unwanted attention. She giggled in embarrassment and shrugged.

“Sorry, I got real excited. I forgot that way today!” the girl whispered loudly.

Well, Joy wasn’t exactly whispering so much as she was really just quietly speaking. Robbie decided to let her think she was actually being quiet. At least she was trying, which was more than he could say for so many of the other children in town.

“Yeah, well, don’t get so excited that you spill the beans,” he warned. “I’ve put too much work into organizing this thing to have you ruin it.”

Joy giggled, apparently not put off by Robbie’s grumpy attitude in the slightest. “Don’t worry, Mister Rotten, I won’t say anything to anyone about anything!” She made a gesture like she was zipped her lips closed. She tossed the imaginary key over her shoulder and seemed to promptly forget that she had just promised not to say a word. “So how old _is_ Mister Sportacus gonna be this year? You gotta make sure you have enough candles for the cake!”

“He’s…” Robbie’s words faltered and a look of absolute horror took hold of his face. “Wait, how old _is_ he?” the man muttered aloud.

Joy gasped. “You don’t _know_?” she accused in shock. “But you two hang out together _all_ the time! Mister Sportacus is your best boyfriend! You _have_ to know how old he is! It’s, like, the rules or something…”

The villain frowned. He was disgusted with himself enough with his lapse of knowledge about the stupid elf and he didn’t need a lecture about it from someone who barely came up to his knee. How old _was_ Sportacus? More importantly, how could Robbie not _know_? If they were still in their first stages of dating he could forgive himself, but they were _married_ now! How on earth could he not know how old his _husband_ was? It had to have come up at some point, right? There must have been some conversation, some clue that he had overlooked or forgotten like the horrible spouse that he was, given so many years together and…

“Mister Rotten?”

“Huh, wha!” the man cried, arms flailing as he jumped away from whatever had startled him.

Joy blinked, staring up at him with concern. “Mister Rotten, are you okay? Your eyes looked really weird for a minute.”

“I, uh…it’s nothing,” he mumbled in an attempt to recover some semblance of dignity after being spooked by his own conversational partner.

“You don’t know how old Mister Sportacus is, do you?”

Robbie frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Do _you_?” he challenged.

Joy shifted her weight from one foot to the other and shrugged. “Well, um…no,” she admitted sheepishly.

Drat. Well, it looked like the girl wouldn’t be the one to supply him with an answer. At least not yet. Robbie squatted down to be at eye-level with the young child. Somehow that seemed to make Joy smile even wider.

“Then I’ve got a job for you,” he said quietly. “You make sure that stupid blue man stays out here in the sports park until party time. In the meantime, you try and get out of him how old he is. But don’t try to be too obvious about it! I don’t want him getting suspicious. Can you do that?”

Joy grinned happily and nodded. “I can do that!” She gasped, then, more quietly, repeated “I can do that, Mister Rotten. You can count on me, okay?”

He smirked at their little collaborative scheme. “Good.” He patted the girl on the head. “See you in a couple hours, kid.”

Little Joy nodded happily. “Okay. See you then, Mister Rotten! It’s gonna be so much fun!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed, straightening up and watching the child run back to rejoin Sportacus and her group.

Joy was a cute kid; even Robbie had to admit that. She was the rare child that was sometimes able to figure out when enough was enough for him and would, amazingly, leave him alone. It was still weird that she had taken a liking to him in the first place, but Robbie had to admit that, if he had to choose one brat in town to be his unlikely shadow, Joy would probably be it. And though he may be pressed to admit it out loud, it felt good to have one of the local children legitimately _like_ him. It was a nice feeling.

But yes, shopping. The whole reason he had come out to face the world in the first place. He really should have planned better; he could be _finished_ with that sorry excuse for a cake by now if he had thought to grab what he needed yesterday. Well, hindsight and all that, he supposed. The villain stalked off to the grocery store.

~~*~~

“Who _buys_ this stuff?” Robbie grumbled to himself as he looked from the paper in his hand to the surrounding shelves.

He may be a decent cook, but that didn’t mean he was familiar with everything stocked on grocery shelves. Especially all of this healthy nonsense. What aisle even _held_ half of these things? Coconut oil? Orange blossom water? Robbie started to wonder if the recipe had actually been a joke and the ingredient list was just full of made-up things that didn’t actually exist in the real world. Regrettably, Robbie realized that he may need some help figuring out where to look for…almost everything.

“Oh, hey, Robbie.”

The man looked up, surprised to spot a familiar face. Trixie wandered down the aisle toward him. He frowned, wondering why the little trickster was wearing an apron. What was she doing, taking cooking lessons from the source or something? Maybe it was just some stupid fashion trend with the kids these days. If it was, he would have to set the brat straight on what was and wasn’t actually fashionable.

“How’s it goin’? You look a little lost.”

“Well to answer your question…it’s not going. At all,” he admitted, flashing his list at the girl. “I don’t know where any of this slop is. You’ve hung around the blue kangaroo enough—do _you_ know what this garbage is?”

“Like it or not, that’s what I’m here for,” Trixie laughed as she took the sheet of paper and gave it a glance over. “Let’s see…oh, this is easy. Come with me.”

With the girl’s help, Robbie soon ended up with an array of very strange ingredients from aisles he had never set foot in before. He almost felt dirty as Trixie tossed each item into his basket. Aside from feeling like he needed a shower, though, the entire process was surprisingly painless.

“How do you _know_ all this?” Robbie asked, still absolutely perplexed even as the girl dropped a couple of vanilla beans into the basket for him.

Trixie laughed. “Well, uh, you kind of pick it up when you work here so long, you know.”

Robbie was lucky he hadn’t been drinking the soda he had plucked from a shelf in the last aisle, or else he probably would have choked on it. He shook his head.

“Wait, _what_? You’re not old enough to work here! Aren’t there some kind of labor laws against that?” he demanded.

“Dude, I’m nineteen.

Robbie stared at her. “Wha—but—how—since _when_?” he cried, arms flailing and mind reeling.

Trixie shrugged and teasingly answered with “I dunno, since my last birthday, I guess?”

“Oh,” was all Robbie could muster on the spot in an attempt to save face. “Well, uh…thanks for the help, Trippy.”

The teenager rolled her eyes. “Well, I’ll see you around, Robbie. Good luck with that cake. I’ll see you after I get off work, okay?”

“Er…yeah, okay,” he mumbled.

Trixie gave him a wave, spun on her heel, and headed back to whatever she had been doing before Robbie ran into her. Although he now had everything he needed for Sportacus’ sorry excuse of a birthday cake…his feet didn’t seem quite ready to carry him back home. He stood there in silence for a minute as his brain tried to comprehend the information he had just been given.

Trixie was nineteen. A teenager...almost beyond one, even. That meant all of other brats—the original health-crazy clique—were all teenagers, too, right? Sure, Robbie had always been a recluse, but _when had that happened_? He saw them all weekly, if not almost daily. He had grown so used to their noise-making faces that, apparently, he hadn’t noticed the gradual changes to them over time. Logically he knew that Trixie, Stephanie, and the rest of the gang had grown older over the years—everyone had, himself included—but he hadn’t really _thought_ about the march of time before now.

How much had all the children changed? How old was Sportacus? Why on earth was he suddenly so baffled by the most basic questions of natural aging? Maybe, Robbie thought, he really _should_ get out of the lair a little more before life passed him by completely. He may have to see Joy and the rest of the ever-growing herd more than he would prefer, but…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. If nothing else, he would be able to watch Sportacus engage the brats on a regular basis. That might be nice to watch, what with all the flexing and the jumping... Oh, and maybe he could even revisit a few of his favorite characters for the new wave of noisy brats! It was a shame to see so many costumes sitting in storage; he could finally revive old Rottenbeard and Doctor Rottenstein without being immediately outed!

“Ah, yes, that’s it!” Robbie hissed in a happy release of contentment. “They won’t know what hit them!” he chuckled.

A new life plan now decided upon, Robbie proudly strode to the checkout counter. He grabbed a small package of birthday candles along the way for good measure. Just in case. He discreetly paid for his uncharacteristic collection of goods as quickly as possible, dodging the strange look from the cashier, and hurried home as quickly as possible. He had a party to set up.


	2. Party

Robbie had made his cake-making machine so that he could have cake any time of day exactly when he wanted it without delay. It worked perfectly and he used it often…too often, perhaps. He hadn’t stopped and made himself a cake, from scratch, by hand, in far too long. He had completely forgotten how therapeutic baking was for him, and now realized how sorely he missed it. This might be the strangest excuse for a cake he had ever come across, but even mixing _this_ concoction was oddly relaxing.  He didn’t think he would ever eat the horrid thing himself, but at least baking it was enjoyable.

The only problem with slowing down and taking the time to relax and bake was that is gave him time to think. He hoped that Joy had been able to weasel Sportacus’ age out of him. Robbie was still angry at himself for not already knowing such a vital piece of information about the man he loved, especially after they had been together for what, six years now? And known each other years before that? How had he _never_ bothered to ask how old his husband was? What kind of man was he that he never asked? Robbie shook his head. No, he was not going down that path today, not on Sportacus’ birthday. Maybe he could figure out the stupid elf’s age himself.

“Let’s see,” he mumbled to himself as he put the finishing touches on the cake frosting and set his new masterpiece aside for later. “The kangaroo’s as bouncy and agile as ever, but who knows how that works for an elf…” He grabbed up a pile of streamers and started to decorate the railing in front of his disguise machine. “No real wrinkles or greying to speak of, which—ugh—might be part of the elf thing, too…” Robbie looked around for the obnoxiously large _Happy Birthday_ banner Stephanie had dropped off that morning. “He _has_ to be younger than me, though, right? I mean, he never complains of any aches or…wait a minute.”

Robbie stopped with one foot on his stepstool. He was busy trying to figure out his husband’s age by expected ailments and familiar milestones of aging but…had there been any? In all the time they had been together, what had changed?

“Well, he…I mean…” Robbie folded his arms over his chest, thinking aloud. “He acts…he looks…that can’t be right. _Can it?_ ”

He was exactly the same. Sportacus was exactly the same? Robbie searched through any and all memories he could dredge up. The first time the elf had plopped down in his little town, Valentine’s Day, their various dates, expanding the lair, _last night_.

“He…he hasn’t aged a day,” Robbie whispered to no one. “The…he…oh my.”

Robbie needed to sit down. He dropped the banner by his feet as he all but collapsed on his little stepstool. Sportacus looked _exactly_ the same as when they had first met. The children had all aged, Robbie had aged, but…

His head shot up.

“Wait a tick!” he cried, springing to his feet and making a dash for the bathroom.

The villain flicked on the light and leaned over the sink. He stared at himself in the mirror. He inspected his skin, his eyes, his hair, his eyes darting about like he was trying to catch a fly bussing always just out of reach. Robbie slowly inched away from the mirror. He stood there, staring quietly at his reflection. The man staring back at him looked as awed and concerned as he felt inside. Which, he realized, made sense. At least _one_ thing about all this made sense, then.

“I…I haven’t changed either?” he asked himself nervously.

His hair was as black and as full as ever, hairline firmly planted where it had always been. His skin was pale, certainly, but that was just normal. No moles or sagging or wrinkles of any kind, not even the crow’s feet he so dreaded getting. There wasn’t a flaw anywhere, at least none that he could find. Normally, that would be cause for celebration, but today it only made him worry. Why hadn’t he aged? He was forty-two, for crying out loud. Surely there should be at least a few grey hairs or, or _some_ sign that he was getting older. But…no. He looked exactly like he had nearly a decade ago. That just wasn’t normal.

“What is this?” he whispered.

He learned in for another look, hoping to find _some_ kind of evidence that time had passed. But Robbie still came up empty-handed. He pulled at his cheeks, his eyelid, anything that might somehow give away some clue to solving the mystery. He had a smidge of fae blood in hie veins, sure, but not enough to warrant this.

_BAM BAM BAM!_

“Gah!” he cried, jumping at the sudden banging. “Oh sugar-lovin’ _aahhh!_ ” he yelped when his jostled movements made him poke himself in the eye. “Ugh. That’s what you get for leaning in too close, Rotten,” he whined to himself.

_BAM BAM BAM!_

“Robbie?” came a faint, muffled voice from outside.

“Ugh. Stinky,” he grumbled to himself as he held one hand over his casualty of an eye. “Guess They’ll start trickling in, now,” the man moaned.

_BAM BAM BAM!_

“I’m _coming!_ Hold on!” the man shouted angrily as he stomped back to the main room. “Come in!”

The child—no, teenager—soon slid down into Robbie’s lair. Stingy looked excited once he glanced around and found he was the first person to arrive.

“Need help with anything?” the boy offered. “It is _my_ party, after all. I should help wherever I can.”

“Sure,” Robbie sighed, waving his free arm toward the banner he had abandoned before his fiasco in the bathroom. “Go do that. And it’s not _your_ party, FYI. I thought you were over that nonsense.”

“Maybe it’s not, but that doesn’t mean I can’t _own it_ ,” Stingy laughed with a wink as he strolled over to the decoration. “Whoa, Robbie! What happened to your eye? Are you okay?”

“It’s, uh, nothing. Go ‘own it’ or whatever. I’ll be over here.”

Stingy frowned, watching the man head off to some other party preparation. He hoped everything was alright. Robbie seemed a little out of it today.

~~*~~

The party guests started arriving as planned, anticipation mounting the more people arrived. Robbie soon felt like a guest in his own home and tried to keep as far away from the bustling crowd as possible. _This was a terrible idea_ he kept telling himself, which was almost always followed up with _At least Sportacus will love it_ and, _at least It won’t be forever. It’s just a little while longer…_ The rukus of all the chatter echoing off his lair walls was near deafening. Too many bodies crowded his personal space or, worse, bumped into him. Robbie started to feel sick, dizzy even. This was too much. Too much in too small an area. He couldn’t…

“Hiya, Mister Rotten!” a familiar voice called to him from behind, around waist-height.

“Hello, Soybean,” he mumbled.

Robbie didn’t dare look up yet from the table of snacks he had been so intently studying, yet not taking. He gripped a small empty cup in his hand, his other arm dangling at his side. Robbie winced momentarily when he felt a small hand take hold of his unoccupied one. The girl standing beside him didn’t seem at all bothered by his reaction.

“Mister Sportacus and Miss Stephanie are gonna be here soon.”

“Yeah, they are,” he muttered as his fingers closed gently around the child’s hand.

“Mister Sportacus will be super happy. This place looks great, Mister Rotten. Your place is really neat.”

“Uh…th-than…”

“Can you show me where the bathroom is?” Joy asked quickly. “I don’t wanna get lost.”

“S-sure,” he mumbled.

Thankful for the interruption, he pulled the child through the crowd with his head down. He retreated down the nearby hallway, where his steps finally began to slow. Robbie let go of the little girl’s hand to push open the bathroom door with a relieved sigh.

“Thanks, Mister Rotten.”

The two stared at each other.

“Aren’t you, uh…?” Robbie questioned with a nod toward the bathroom.

“Oh yeah!” Joy laughed, as though she had momentarily forgotten why they were there in the first place. Oh, um…” Her smile faded slightly. “I tried to get Mister Sportacus to tell us how old he was, but he wouldn’t say it. Sorry, Mister Rotten. He just said he was the oldest but he wouldn’t say a number.”

In spite of his disappointment, Robbie smiled for the little girl. “No problem, kid. Thanks for trying,” he said, giving the kid a quick pat on the shoulder. “I appreciate it.”

Joy suddenly hugged the man at his waist. She released him just as abruptly and headed into the bathroom without another word. Robbie just shook his head. What a weird kid. Well, back to the party…the loud, claustrophobic party. It may not be his cup of tea, but at least he had been able to get a short break from the insanity that had overrun his home. He lingered in the hallway just a bit longer, savoring the comparable quiet and isolation, before gathering his strength and heading back out to the main room.

The man quickly located his orange, fluffy chair that had been relocated early on to a far corner of the ‘party area’ and promptly sat down. He stroked the comfortingly familiar arms of the recliner and focused on his breathing. The chaos would die down soon enough. He was safe here, at least.

Within a few minutes, the slew of guests were silenced by a _BAM BAM BAM!_ From above.

“Robbie?” came Stephanie’s voice. “Are you home?”

That was his cue! Robbie jumped to his feet, waving wildly at Pixel from across the room to turn off the lights. He cleared his throat and did his best to relax so he couldn’t sound suspicious.

“About time!” he shouted. “I’ve been waiting for you two for an hour! This dinner isn’t going to eat itself!” Nailed it.

The party guests all waited in heightened anticipation. A soft _shwoosh!_ was heard, followed by the sound of a pair of quiet boots hitting the floor.

“Robbie?” Sportacus’ voice asked. “Why is it so dark?” he laughed as Stephanie came down behind him.

Pixel threw the light switch and Robbie tensed in preparation of—

“ _SURPRISE!_ ” the town cried in unison as Sportacus blinked and jumped back in surprise.

The hero’s confusion didn’t last long and he broke into a quick smile. Within seconds he was thanking everyone and laughing with sheer excitement at the idea of having a party held in his honor. It took the elf a minute, but he eventually caught sight of his husband across the room and waved to Robbie through the crowd. Robbie simply shrugged and offered his love an awkward smile. The hero looked incredibly happy, and that made Robbie happy.

~~*~~

“I can’t believe you agreed to have a party here,” Sportacus chuckled once he finally managed to fight his way through his friends to find his partner.

Robbie had again needed to retreat from the festivities for a while. Sportacus had found him sitting on the bed in Glanni’s room and quickly joined him there. He kissed Robbie’s cheek, which immediately turned the villain’s ears red.

“It was mostly Pinky’s idea,” Robbie mumbled defensively while trying to hide a smile. “She came up with the idea. I just rolled over and provided the venue.”

Sportacus kissed him again, this time on the lips. “Well thank you. This is wonderful, Robbie. It means a lot to me that you did this.”

Robbie shrugged again, pulling his shoulders up around his ears and laughing when Sportacus wrapped his strong arms around his waist and pulled the man close to deliver even more kisses to his cheek and neck.

“Sportacus!” Robbie snorted as he fended off the elf’s now wandering fingers trying to tickle his sides, “We have guests! Literally dozens of them! _Half of them are children!_ ”

The hero nuzzled his husband’s shoulder nonetheless. “What, I can’t kiss my own husband?” he teased.

“No! Not when there are children around!” Robbie scolded.

Sportacus rolled his eyes and poked his partner’s nose, if only to throw Robbie off, which it did tremendously. The tall man straightened like a board, eyes crossed, as his brain tried to register what had just happened. That made the elf laugh.

“Thank you, Robbie. This really is wonderful.”

“Yes, well...everyone is here to see _you_ , so you might as well get back out there for your adoring fans, birthday boy.”

As if on cue, a youthful round face framed by long yellow hair appeared in the doorway. “Oh, there you are, Sportacus!” Ziggy laughed. “We were wondering where you went. Come on, everyone wants to give you your presents!”

Robbie raised an eyebrow and nodded toward the door. “Told you. Your adoring fans await.”

“You should come with me,” Sportacus insisted. “Just for a little while?”

Robbie made the mistake of looking the elf in the eye. After such a careless blunder, all he could do was sigh and nod. Once those sparkling blue eyes had you, there was simply no escape. No wonder Sportacus was able to convert all of the town’s children into active little health goblins so quickly; it had to be some kind of hypnotic elven magic. What other explanation could there be? His fate decided, Robbie allowed himself to be lead back into the fray by Sportacus’ gentle, calloused hand.

“Presents!” came a cry from a child within seconds of Sportacus’ return.

“Yes, presents!” called another with a delighted squeal of pure excitement.

Soon there was a chorus of tiny pleas that grew into a symphony of townsfolk once yet again celebrating the hero and awaiting the opening of his pile of birthday presents. At least their attention was focused on something now rather than being strewn every which way in a cacophony of chaos. Robbie relaxed slightly, opting to sit over by the wall so he had a decent view of Sportacus having all of his gifts thrust upon him.

The town hero got an array of presents. They ranged from things obviously given to him by the children—a couple of stuffed animals, a box of crackers, handmade pictures of the hero—to things given by clearly well-meaning adults that were terrible at shopping for others. Someone had decided it was a good idea to get Sportacus a pedometer. The blue elf would have that thing destroyed before the week was out, and it was already Friday. Robbie’s personal favorite was that someone had the brilliant thought of buying him a set of relaxation CDs. It took everything in his power not to burst out laughing. The awkward smile on Sportacus’ face as he thanked them for the gift almost sent him over the edge.

The best part of the unboxing, though, was his _own_ offering to the birthday boy. Sportacus had been plenty excited to open the box, flashing a smile over at Robbie in preemptive thanks. Once he opened the lid, however, the elf slammed it back down in a wide-eyed panic.  The man’s cheeks flushed a deep red and he had to clumsily deflect the children’s various pleas to see what it was Robbie had gotten him. At some point Sportacus had resorted to sitting on the box to make sure no brat snuck a look inside, a fact that Robbie found a bit ironic. Thankfully, it didn’t take long to distract the tiny horde with a game or two. Robbie could only smirk as his husband tried to shoot him a dark look before stalking off with the box of the hour to hide it in another room. Sportacus had tried to come off as mildly threatening, but the elf had too hard of a time hiding his smile to pull off the desired effect. Robbie just sipped his soda.

Things quieted down a bit after that—thankfully!—and Robbie parked himself by the snack table…the end with the candies and cookies rather than the mounds of sportscandy, to be precise. Sportacus has devolved to entertaining the youngest party guests with Stephanie while the older crowd mingled with each other. Robbie found himself neck-deep in a conversation with Pixel about robotics for a while. Somehow by the end he had agreed totake a look at the teen’s machinery to help him diagnose the problem he had been having. The conversation was interrupted by a set of fragile fingertips gently tapping on his arm.

“Robbie, dear,” Ms. Busybody said gently, taking a sip of her drink before continuing. “When do you think the, well…when will the cake be cut? I’m afraid my Milford and I can’t stay too much longer and I would hate to miss it.”

“Oh? _Oh!_ ” Robbie’s spine straightened. “Oh, right, the cake! Yes, I suppose we _should_ be getting to that. Erm, see you later, Pickle,” he bade with a wave as he left the tech genius shaking their head with a laugh.

Yes, cake time. Finally! In all, he had made three cakes for the day’s festivities: a normal cake for the guests, a _perfect_ cake for himself, and—how could he forget after that ingredient list of doom?—the strange concoction that called itself a cake for Sportacus. Robbie stared at the strange excuse for a dessert, then at the package of candles sitting beside it. He still didn’t know how old his husband was. And it still bothered him.

So, what should he do for a design, then? Robbie sighed and shook his head. He was a creative genius; he could think of something. He grabbed the small pack of candles, ripped it open, and stared at them. He first thought of arranging the things in the shape of an apple—what better imagery for his health nut of a man?—but there was nowhere near enough red for that. What else could be a decent representation for Sportacus that wouldn’t showcase how Robbie clearly didn’t know the man as well as he should?

“Ah, perfect,” the villain hissed as he began picking out the reds, yellows, and oranges from his candle collection.

It didn’t take long for him to map out a large _10_ in the center of the frosting. Robbie put his hands on his hips and looked it over. Yes, that would do. There was no mistaking who the recipient of _this_ cake might be, that was for sure. Good plan, Robbie. He lit the candles and carefully picked up the dessert to head back out to the party proper.

“Alright!” Robbie shouted maybe a bit too loudly, “Everybody be quiet! Sportacus has to cut his cake!”

The hero looked absolutely bewildered as he was ushered to sit at a small table that Stephanie had pulled, seemingly, from the ether of the lair. He sat down and blinked in curious confusion as Robbie set his creation down in front of his husband.

“Happy birthday, Sportacute,” Robbie whispered, stealing a small kiss for the man’s forehead and hoping that few people noticed.

“I…thank you very much, Robbie. It looks lovely, but—”

“You’re letting those things get wax on my frosting. Blow ‘em out,” Robbie warned as he took a step back.

“ _Happy birthday to you!_ ” Joy started to sing loudly, the rest of the crowd soon joining in. Even Robbie mumbled along with the words as he stood there with his arms folded across his chest. The elf just smiled, his cheeks a bit pink from all of the attention. The actually applause at the song’s conclusion just made Sportacus look even more delightfully embarrassed, and Robbie couldn’t help but smile.

“Now blow out the candles, Sportacus!” one of the children, Marianne, yelled in excitement.

“Yeah, you get a wish for it!” Joy added helpfully.

Sportacus stared at the cake for a moment. Robbie raised an eyebrow, wondering if the man was contemplating an actual wish. The elf grinned and finally blew out the dozen or so tiny flames. More applause soon followed.

“Now you gotta cut it!” a boy named Danny shouted as he practically jumped up and down.

“Yeah!” Ziggy added from the back. “Bonus wish, Sportacus!”

“Bonus?” the birthday boy laughed. “I’ll have to think of another one!”

Robbie rolled his eyes. He grabbed his trusty pie server from the snack table and plopped it in Sportacus’ hand. The hero looked up at him with an almost nervous expression, then quickly looked back at the dessert. He took a deep breath, nodded for some reason, and sliced down into his birthday cake. More cheers from the children. Robbie couldn’t wait for the screaming and screeching to be over, but for now did his best to focus on the matter at hand.

“Alright,” Sportacus laughed as he set the slice of cake on the first in a stack of plates someone had set by his side. “Who gets the first piece?”

“Ah, that would be you,” Robbie said quickly, reining in Sportacus’ extending arms.

His partner stared up at him in utter confusion, which Robbie blatantly ignored.

“All the hyperactive munchkins can have some cake over there,” Robbie instructed, pointing over at the cake he had made for the general public. “Knock yourselves out.”

“But Robbie, I…I can’t have this,” Sportacus said in a hushed voice, his eyebrows pushed together for the troubled expression on his face. “It looks lovely, but—”

“I made that cake especially for you, and you will eat it, mister,” Robbie replied.

Sportacus stared. “But...?”

Robbie’s expression softened and he nodded toward the slice waiting in his husband’s hands. “Try it, Sportacake.”

There was a hint of hesitation in his eyes, but Sportacus picked up a fork. He let out a small breath and picked off a piece. He let the fork through his lips and let the morsel touch his tongue. Robbie stood by his side, arms still crossed and a triumphant smile across his face. There was an awkward few seconds before the realization finally hit Sportacus that he wasn’t about to have a sugar meltdown.

“So…good?” Robbie asked hopefully.

“Robbie, this is delicious! But…but what’s in it? I’m not having a meltdown!” Sportacus cried excitedly before taking another jubilant bite.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Robbie teased. “It’s just a good thing you can have honey or I would have been at a loss. I’m glad you like it. I had to buy _healthy_ food to make that thing, you know. In public, even! You better appreciate that.”

Sportacus laughed. He set his plate down and stood up so he could wrap his arms around his husband’s shoulders. The strong man pulled Robbie close and nuzzled his face into the villain’s neck. Robbie’s face was bright red at the display of affection, but he smiled and returned the hug anyway.

“I do. Thank you, Robbie! This is wonderful—I can have cake with you now! The best birthday present of the night!”

“Oh really?” Robbie purred into Sportacus’ ear.

Now it was the elf’s turn to look like a tomato. “Robbie!” he hissed, looking around. “There are _children_ here!”

“You were the one trying to start a makeout session in Glanni’s room earlier!” he pointed out.

Sportacus suddenly looked very flustered. “I…just...Let’s just have some birthday cake.”

Robbie tried to keep himself from snorting in amusement to no avail. Sportacus shoved another piece of cake into his mouth. Hearing the elf’s happy hum over the taste was worth all of the morning’s troubles.


	3. Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a monster but I couldn't find a satisfactory spot to break it apart so... *slow, awkward shrug*

Not long after cutting the cake, people finally started to slowly disperse and, eventually, Robbie was able to reclaim his home as his own. Stephanie was the last guest to leave, giving each of the men a hug before departing for the night as well. Robbie took to cleaning almost immediately while Sportacus tried to figure out what to do with his new collection of gifts. The place was an absolute wreck, and there was no way that Robbie was going to attempt to tackle it all that night, but cleaning at least the floor seemed like a good idea. The last thing he needed was to wake up in the middle of the night to rats feasting on the plethora of crumbs left behind. Just because he lived underground didn’t mean he wanted vermin running around the place. At least nothing had gotten spilled on his orange chair; that’s all that really mattered in the long run.

“Thank you again for everything, Robbie,” Sportacus said as he threw a blob of garbage across the room as though it were a basketball, easily landing it in a small trash can. “It was wonderful! I was completely surprised, too! I forgot how sneaky you can be, ha!”

“Like I said, it was all Pinky’s idea. I just…helped.”

“I think you did more than just help. Oh, and that cake…that was amazing, Robbie! Thank you so much!” Sportacus lowered his voice, a mischievous look on his face as he spoke. “I may even have some for breakfast tomorrow.”

“Oh, the scandal!” Robbie laughed. “You should have told me I married a wild man, Sportacus. I don’t know if I can handle your rebellious nature for much longer.”

The elf rolled his eyes and back-flipped over to his husband, wrapping his arms around Robbie and kissing the tip of his nose. Robbie scrunched up his face and Sportacus giggled, admiring the sight.

“I will never forget that birthday cake, Robbie. Thank you so much. It was wonderful. You are wonderful.”

Robbie shrugged sheepishly. “Not like I’ve never made a cake before, Sportaloon.”

“Not like that one,” he pointed out cheerfully. “And then you endured an entire party for me! I know how you hate crowds like that. It meant a lot to me, Robbie.”

“Well, y-you, uh…” Robbie sputtered, “…you deserve it, Sportaflop. It’s your birthday...”

Sportacus smiled and gave Robbie a gentle kiss. His former nemesis’ shoulders relaxed as the kiss continued, and Robbie quickly reciprocated the gesture. He squeezed Sportacus to his torso and felt the elf inching up on his tip-toes for a better angle. Robbie bend forward to help him and the pair soon forgot about the mess around them, instead content to explore one another where they stood.

“Robbie,” Sportacus breathed, kissing up and down the man’s neck while his hands held his husband’s soft hips. “Robbie, I love you, Robbie.”

“You’re my stupid, crazy elf,” the tall man replied breathlessly as he pulled Sportacus’ hat from his head and buried his face in the man’s soft, golden curls. “My little birthday elf,” he snickered softly.

His birthday elf. Oh, right. Birthday.

“Robbie, what’s wrong?”

He blinked, looking down at his partner. Robbie realized that he must have stopped responding to Sportacus’ touch. The man looked concerned.

“I, um…it’s nothing.”

“You were thinking about something,” Sportacus countered. “You were making one of your thinking faces. What is it?”

He had thinking faces?

“It’s…silly,” Robbie admitted quietly, fiddling with Sportacus’ hat to occupy his suddenly nervous hands.

“I’m sure it’s not silly, Robbie,” Sportacus encouraged with his relentless smile.

He shrugged and glanced at the nearest table. Thankfully it was within arm’s reach so he could start pushing some of the plates and bowls closer to each other in a feigned attempt at cleaning up. Sportacus picked up a nearby broom, but kept his eyes on his husband as he started to work.

“It wasn’t something I said, was it?” Sportacus asked. “I know sometimes I get carried away and I don’t always know what comes out of my mouth…”

“No, it wasn’t—you didn’t say anything. Don’t worry.”

“Then what is it? Was it something that happened during the party?” Sportacus asked worriedly.

“No. Well, in a way…I…” Robbie sighed. “I guess it’s me.”

“You?” the hero asked worriedly, now holding his broom still. He watched Robbie carefully consolidate the party leftovers and dinnerware. “Robbie…?”

“I…kind of feel like I’m a bad husband,” he admitted softly.

“A bad husband?” Sportacus asked in shock. “Robbie,” he laughed, “You are a _wonderful_ husband! Look at all you did for me today! _You went shopping for healthy foods_ ,” he teased, throwing Robbie’s words back at him playfully. “A bad husband wouldn’t do that!”

“Sportacus, how old are you?”

He blinked. “I…what?”

“How old are you?” Robbie asked again. “I...I realized I don’t know how old you are.”

There was an awkward silence for a few seconds.

“I, well…” Sportacus swallowed as he started sweeping again. “I am…forty.”

Robbie sighed. “Lying doesn’t suit you, you know.”

Sportacus’ voice wasn’t right. Too much pause, too quiet. He wasn’t forty and Robbie knew it. If anything, the elf’s apparent reluctance to admit his age—to Robbie of all people—confirmed that morning’s suspicions that something was amiss. And he didn’t like it.

Sportacus sighed. “I am fifty-four. Well, fifty-five now, I guess. Does…does that matter?”

Robbie wasn’t sure what he should feel. Sportacus’ age didn’t matter, and yet somehow he knew that it did. Maybe he should have left the entire subject alone and resigned himself to being a poor husband who didn’t know the basics about his own partner, because he did not like how this conversation was making him feel and it was his own fault for bringing it up in the first place.

“I don’t know.” A pause. “Y-you’re older than me?”

He swallowed and looked over his shoulder at Sportacus. The elf looked pathetically sad and it broke his heart immediately. Robbie could swear even the hero’s ears were drooping a bit. The sight was horrible and Robbie instinctively wanted to rush over and engulf Sportacus in his arms and apologize, tell him that everything was okay, that their ages didn’t matter. But he knew somehow that they did, though Robbie didn’t yet understand why.

“I am. Is that alright?”

“I…yeah, I guess so.”

Robbie looked down at his hands, thinking. He didn’t realize that Sportacus was over a decade older than him. And yet, the hero looked far younger than his age should indicate. Robbie wasn’t a stupid man. He knew that Sportacus was different from him. He was an elf, after all. Heck, Robbie knew _he_ wasn’t entirely human either, but…for all intents and purposes he was. So, the question remained; just how big were the differences between them, and how would it affect things? Had it already? Robbie had a question that had been floating around in his subconscious for a while now, but he had never willingly acknowledged it simply because he was afraid of what the answer might be. But, he realized, if he was ever to know the answer, he needed to ask it now. Reluctantly, Robbie took in a deep breath and prepared himself.

“How long do elves live?”

The couple stared at one another for a minute in silence. Sportacus looked taken aback by the question. Either every passing second, Robbie just looked more distraught.

“That long?” he whispered.

“I…oh, no! No, I…”

Sportacus seemed at a loss for words. He closed his eyes, then let out a long, steadying breath. He leaned his broom against the wall and walked to Robbie’s side. He took his husband’s slightly trembling hands into his own and sighed.

“Elves… _full-blooded_ elves…can live to be about four hundred fifty years old.”

“F-four hun-hundred…?” Robbie gasped. “B-but I…”

Sportacus squeezed Robbie’s hands again. He looked up at the taller man, keeping their eyes locked.

“Full-blooded elves, Robbie. I am only half elf, remember?”

“S-so, what? You’re going to be over two hundred and I’m g-going to be planted in the ground s-somewh-where and—?”

“Robbie,” Sportacus said quickly in a hushed, gentle voice. “Robbie, stop. Stop. Slow down,” he nearly whispered, trying to speak slowly and calmly to steady his love. “You don’t know that. Neither of us know how long we have, no one does. We can—”

“I’ll be an old man,” Robbie whimpered as his vision gradually began to blur from the tears beginning to take form in his eyes.

“What?”

“I’ll be an old man. And you’ll be stuck taking care of me until…” Robbie swallowed. “You’ll probably _still_ look exactly like you do now and you’ll be stuck with an old man who—”

“Robbie, Robbie, no!” Sportacus whispered, letting go of the man’s hands in favor of holding his entire form instead. “Shhh, it’s okay, Robbie. It’s okay.”

Sportacus rubbed his partner’s back as Robbie started to cry. He kissed the man’s cheek and held him close. Sportacus knew he should have talked about this with Robbie before now. Before they were married, at least. He hadn’t wanted to think about it, really. Who would?

He didn’t want to outlive the man he loved, especially by a margin of a hundred years or more. But, Sportacus had decided long ago, if something like that ever _did_ happen, Robbie would never be alone. He _would_ take care of Robbie in his old age, spend every minute that they could together while they had the opportunity. It would hurt to see his love grow old without him, leave him in the end…but Sportacus had never really considered how all of that would feel from Robbie’s point of view. And now the hero felt incredibly guilty and woefully selfish.

“I’m sorry, Robbie,” was all Sportacus managed to say as he felt his own chin being to tremble. “I’m so sorry.”

“You h-haven’t a-aged a day!” Robbie squeaked through his sobs. “I tried to figure out how old you were a-all day b-because I felt s-so bad that I didn’t know! And I-I couldn’t! Y-you look exactly the same! And you’re _older_ than me!”

Sportacus held tight and tried to fight back a sniffle.

Robbie’s face was buried in the crook of Sportacus’ neck. His knees felt weak, but he didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to let go, couldn’t let go. He sniffled and tried to calm down, though he had no idea how. He tried to focus on Sportacus: the hero’s arms around him, his heartbeat, his scent. The man loved him. Loved him in spite of everything Robbie had done to him when they had first met. Loved him despite knowing how long elves lived compared to humans. Sportacus had chosen him, and chosen to stay with him…out of everyone in the world. Robbie whimpered and gently kissed Sportacus’ throat, not wanting to move from his hiding spot.

“Why haven’t I changed either?”

Sportacus could only partially understand what Robbie had said, half of the man’s words lost somewhere in the collar of his shirt.

“What was that?” the elf asked gently as he slowly rubbed his partner’s back and tried to hide the tears lingering in his voice. “I couldn’t hear, Robbie.”

Robbie sniffled and lifted his head. “I-I asked…wh-why haven’t I changed either?”

“What do you mean?”

Robbie tried to wipe his exhausted eyes. “L-like you. I…I haven’t changed. I d-don’t understand why.”

“What?” Sportacus asked with a frown.

He gently pulled away from Robbie to study his love’s face. The villain’s eyes were red and his upper lip was speckled with red from crying. Sportacus tried to look past the distressing pain in his husband’s eyes to study the face he loved so much: Robbie’s cheeks, his chin, brow, carefully styled hair, nose. Everything was as it should be, and as gorgeous as the day they had met. Which, Sportacus quickly realized, was what Robbie was talking about. The man _did_ look the same as he had a decade ago.

Sportacus suddenly felt a bit weak, and tightened his hold on Robbie to keep himself upright. Robbie noticed the sudden change and instinctually grabbed his husband to steady him. His previous anguish was momentarily forgotten in favor of intense concern for the elf’s well-being.

“Sportacus? Sportacus, are you alright?”

The hero blinked and shook his head before looking up at a very worried-looking Robbie. He swallowed, not answering right away. His brain needed to filter through a few more things first. This did not help Robbie’s nerves in the slightest.

“Sportaflop? Say something…Sportacus?”

The hero let out a slow breath. “I’m okay. I just...realized something.

Robbie stared expectantly. “But you’re okay, right?”

Sportacus nodded before taking a gentle hold of Robbie’s hand. Without a word, he lead his partner to where his orange chair still sat in the corner of the room. He made a gesture to sit, which Robbie did with a furrowed brow. Sportacus bit his lip and stared at the floor for a moment as he tried to figure out how to breach the subject. The silence only made the other man all the more anxious.

“Sportacus, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...” He sighed and knelt in front of his partner. “I…I think it may be my fault.”

“What’s your fault?” Robbie asked in bewilderment. “Having a hard time following what subject we’re on now,” he admitted. “If…if we’re still talking about how old you are, I’d say, uh, that’s not so much _your_ fault as your parents’—”

“No, no, no,” Sportacus interrupted, shaking his head. “Not that. _You_. You’re right.” He couldn’t quite meet Robbie’s eye, so he settled for staring at the man’s knees. “You are right, Robbie. You haven’t changed. And I think it is because of me.”

Robbie felt his already on-edge heart skip a beat and he dug his fingers into the familiar cushion of the chair’s arm rests. Sportacus looked…troubled, to say the least. The top of his head was, admittedly, difficult to read, but the sheer fact that he wasn’t showing his adorable face with his usual bright smile did not bode well.

“What do you mean?” He swallowed. “…Sporto?”

“I wasn’t even sure if it could happen for someone like me, but…but I think it has,” was the hero’s initial response, which didn’t help Robbie’s understanding in the slightest.

“Sportacus, you’re still on the scaring me thing,” the villain said quietly, leaning forward and cupping his husband’s chin in his hand. “Look at me.”

Sportacus complied. Robbie still wasn’t entirely sure what the man’s big, moist eyes and twitchy lip signified, but whatever was going on was important. And Sportacus knew something about what was going on that he didn’t.

“Sportacus, _what_ ‘could happen’? What are you talking about? What’s _wrong_?”

That seemed to spark something in the elf. Sportacus blinked and the twitch in his lips slowly turned into a soft smile. The twinkle slowly returned to his eyes, and Robbie felt himself relax at the sight of it. At least Robbie knew one thing, then: whatever was going on at least wasn’t some kind of terrible catastrophe. So, at least there was that. As if to lend credence to that hypothesis, Sportacus leaned up and kissed his husband. He pulled Robbie down closer to him and ran his fingers through the man’s gorgeously dark hair.

“As—” _kiss_ “—nice as—” _kiss_ “—this—” _kiss_ “—is…” _kiss_ “What are—” _kiss_ “—you so excited—” k _iss_ “—about, Sporta—” k _iss_ “—kook?”

The elf chuckled and brushed his fingertips down the back of Robbie’s slender neck. He sniffled as he gazed upon at his partner. Robbie stared back at him, unsure what was going on but hoping the elf would explain.

“I love you so much, Robbie.”

“I…I love you too, but…but I don’t know what this is all about. Er…not that I _mind_ where this conversation’s going, but it _would_ be nice if you could clue me in what’s going on.”

Sportacus wet his lips and took both of Robbie’s hands in his. He kissed them each and looked back up to meet the man’s silvery eyes.

“You see, Robbie…I…” The hero sighed and shook his head, smiling as he nibbled on his lower lip. “I don’t exactly know where to begin,” he laughed. After a second, he continued. “You see, Robbie, elves…we…they…” He rolled his eyes. “Elves may have _flings_ , different partners, but…but true love, Robbie. Elves marry for true love, become a mated pair, they bond.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And…?” he asked. “Sounds pretty normal to me, Sportaflop.”

“No, no, Robbie…I…”

“You chew that lip any more and it’ll be hamburger meat.”

Sportacus chuckled and squeezed Robbie’s hands. “When elves bond, it’s for life, Robbie. They bond, and they marry. They…they can become what’s called lifemates. Their love is so strong that their auras and…and their very souls, intertwine with one another, feed off of each other. They make each other _strong_ , even their thoughts sometimes seem to mingle together, they…they practically become one soul with two bodies. So long as that love stays, they are connected forever.”

Robbie listened intently, enveloped by his husband’s words. What he spoke about—the idea of having a _lifemate_ —it sounded so…beautiful. The epitome of romance. And Robbie felt something in his chest that he hadn’t been aware of before then. He wasn’t sure what it was, exactly. Endearment? Longing? Being so close to someone to that degree sounded heavenly.

“It…it happens naturally between elves. S-sometimes it’s been known to occur between an elf and a human, but…but it’s not common.” Sportacus was practically bouncing at Robbie’s feet now. “I…I don’t…I _didn’t_ know if half-elves could even form a lifemate bond with someone. I never heard of it happening before.” The man giggled, tears again gathering at the corners of his eyes. “R-Robbie, I…I think that’s what’s happened. It’s happened with _us_. We’re lifemates, Robbie. That’s why you haven’t aged. We’ve bonded. We…our souls have become part of one another because w-we love each other so _much_ , Robbie.”

He was stunned. No, overwhelmed might be a closer description.  All of that romantic magical lifemate stuff that Sportacus had been talking about…was them? Their souls, their lives...were that close to one another? But how? If Robbie had found his literal soulmate—something he hadn’t realized until now was even a real _thing_ —wouldn’t he have felt the planets aligning or the universe opening up to him or some other grandiose road sign to make him drop to his knees and weep? The man’s cheeks grew red suddenly as Robbie recalled the sheer cascade of emotions he had felt years earlier when he realized that he truly loved Sportacus. Had that been it, his sign? Was that where it had started?

“Robbie.”

He was suddenly aware of someone gently squeezing his hands.

“Robbie?” Sportacus asked slowly.

“Y-yeah?”

“A-are you angry?” the elf asked hesitantly in a small voice.

He had Robbie’s attention now. “Wait, what?”

“I asked if you are angry. You looked so far away. I wasn’t sure what to think.”

The tall man chucked and shook his head. “No, no, not angry, just a little…” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s, uh, it’s a little much to take in all at once,” he admitted.

Robbie looked down at Sportacus. The elf’s temporary fears had already melted away and he was back to beaming up at his husband. Robbie shuffled aside and tugged on the hero’s hands to urge him to his feet. Sportacus happily hopped up so that he could collapse into the soft chair by his beloved’s side. Sportacus kicked up his legs and laughed before wrapping Robbie in a warm hug and kissing him. Robbie returned the gesture, nuzzling his face into the hero’s hair and pulling Sportacus closer by the waist.

They stayed there together, reveling in one another’s company. They were lifemates. Soulmates. They were intertwined forever, and neither party could be happier. The kissing eventually died down, as did the laughter, and the hero-and-villain drifted into a relaxing state of bliss as they held each other in the silence of the lair, content to just feel the other man’s presence against them as they sat together.

Sportacus was almost asleep when Robbie abruptly broke the silence, whispering to him as he petted the elf’s hair.

“How long do we have, then?”

“What do you mean?” the hero asked quietly as he enjoyed feeling the fabric of Robbie’s vest beneath his cheek.

“You said…you said something about their— _our­—_ souls merging or something. But if elves live so long and I…well.” He sighed. “How much time do we have together? I still can’t figure out how this whole thing would work. I mean…I haven’t aged much or maybe at all, but neither one of us is immortal.”

That was a tough one. While Sportacus was happily able to banish thoughts of Robbie growing old and dying in a few short decades, the void was now filled with a new uncertainty.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Until today I hadn’t even realized I _could_ form a lifemate bond. My being a half-elf means we are really in some, uh, uncharted territory.”

Robbie shifted slightly. “Well, I’m kind of new to this whole thing in general, so, uh, what…how would this work if we were both elves? I mean, it’s not like we’re just going to be frozen in time forever or something, is it?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that.”

“Then spill it, Sportamate. Educate me.”

Sportacus smiled at the new nickname and gave Robbie’s torso a light squeeze.

“Well,” he started with a sigh. “We’d be more in-tune with one another. How the other is feeling, their health, sometimes even if they’re nearby or not.”

Robbie smirked. “All I have to do is listen for little whooshes and flippy noises for that,” he teased.

Sportacus grinned and snuggled into his husband’s side. “And our lives would...I’m not sure how to describe it in English,” he admitted. “…mix together? Average out maybe? Yes, average. I think that might be it.”

Robbie frowned. “Average out? Wait, like _math_ kind of average?”

His partner nodded. “Yes! Yes, like that!”

The villain felt a strange pit starting to form in his stomach. He didn’t like how that sounded. Averaging out two lives? He could only think of one way that could be taken, and he wasn’t sure how much he liked that idea.

“Wait,” he said slowly. “You mean our _lifespans_ are averaged together if we’re lifemates?”

Sportacus nodded. “Yes, exactly!” he said happily, clearly oblivious to Robbie’s apprehension.

“But…but no! That’s not… _no_ , Sportadolt, you’re stopping that _right_ now!” Robbie yelled as he jumped to his feet and sent a very surprised elf sprawling to the floor.

Sportacus stared up at the man, totally perplexed. “Wh-what? I…Robbie, what is wrong?”

“What’s _wrong_?” he cried, curling his fingers into frustrated claws. “ _What’s wrong?_ Do you not see the problem in that, Sportaidiot?”

The elf frowned. “There’s no need to be mean, Robbie. Please, calm down. I don’t know what you are yelling about.”

Robbie sighed and stomped around the chair for a bit. When he turned back to his husband there were tears in his eyes. Sportacus picked himself up from the floor.

“Robbie, please,” he said gently. “Talk to me. What’s wrong? I…I thought this was wonderful news. You seemed so happy a minute ago…”

“Don’t you _understand_ what this lifemate stuff _means_ , Sportacus?” Robbie asked bluntly.

“Yes. I told you! Our souls have bonded with such strength that—”

“That you’ve _cheated yourself_!” Robbie supplied in a shaky bark.

His love frowned in continued confusion as he watched Robbie fume and run his hands through his hair. Sportacus walked over and placed a careful hand on his arm to try and calm him down. Robbie looked at him in pleading distress and Sportacus wished so much that he knew how to fix it.

“How have I cheated myself?” he asked softly. “Robbie, I have _you_. I know you’re upset, but I don’t understand why. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

The taller of the two swallowed. He held his breath while he tried to calm himself enough to speak rationally. The effort steadied his voice, but had no effect on the tears slowly tumbling down his cheeks.

“Elves live for over four-hundred years,” Robbie spelled out slowly as Sportacus patiently listened. “You may only be half, but…but you could still live _such_ a long time. And…I won’t. Y-you take an average between such a low number and…such a high number…” he whined, hands gesturing between the both of them as he spoke.

Sportacus nodded in new understanding. “Yes, Robbie, I know,” he supplied. “My life _will_ be shorter now that we’ve bonded, but…but I am okay with that.” He reached up to wipe away some of his beloved’s tears.

“ _Well I’m not!_ ” Robbie cried. “You can’t give up a huge chunk of your life for no reason! That’s…that’s crazy! It’s stupid! It…n-no. Why would you _do_ that?”

“Becoming lifemates isn’t a conscious thing, Robbie,” Sportacus explained as he gently guided the man back to his chair. “But even if it was, I would still choose to be with you. My life may be shorter than it would have been, but it will be so much richer! And it will be because I’m with you.”

Robbie sniffled and wiped his cheek. At some point he must have sat down again because he found himself rubbing the armrests of his chair for some semblance of comfort.

“I don’t want to live longer if it means you won’t.”

Sportacus sighed and wrapped his arms around his husband’s shoulder and kissed the top of Robbie’s head. “I’m sorry, Robbie. I didn’t mean to upset you with this,” he mumbled.

They were quiet for a few minutes, save for the occasional sniffle or escaped whine. Robbie, after a while, let out a ragged sigh and leaned into Sportacus’ arms. His vision was still blurred from tears, but his mind, at least, was beginning to clear.

“What if we got a divorce?” he whispered.

He felt Sportacus’ arms stiffen and immediately regretted asking such a terrible question. It hurt him just to have said it. Robbie could only imagine how awful it was to hear.

“If…if that’s what you…”

“It’s not,” Robbie said quickly. “I just…” He sniffled. “I…I want to save you.”

“Save me?”

“I want you to live. And…and if I have to be out of the picture for you to do it, then…then…”

“It doesn’t work like that, Robbie,” the hero whispered as he kissed his villain on the cheek. “I appreciate how much you care about me, I do. I…I really do. But being apart won’t change things, not unless we pull our souls apart.”

That sounded painful.

“I’m guessing that’s not really an option,” Robbie mumbled.

“Not without a substantial amount of hate and unpleasantries,” Sportacus confirmed.

More silence.

“How do your parents manage all of this?”

Sportacus’ reply was delayed for a few seconds before he quietly admitted “They’re…not together.”

“Oh,” Robbie mumbled slowly. “I…I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing to be sorry for.” Sportacus kissed Robbie’s cheek. “Even with how long they live, elves don’t always find a lifemate, Robbie. It’s…actually a fairly rare thing. It’s…special.”

Sportacus sat on the arm of the chair and pulled his villain to his side, resting his chin atop the tall man’s head. Robbie leaned into him and closed his eyes to better focus on the strong arms still wrapped around his shoulders. He didn’t want to move anymore; it was too much work. He was too tired. The party cleanup could wait until tomorrow. It was just much too much.

Sportacus was the first to speak this time.

“We should go to bed soon. It’s almost eight-oh-eight.”

Robbie gave a weak nod and reluctantly pulled himself from the elf’s arms. He stood, something in his back popping along the way, and felt Sportacus take his hand. Robbie gave it a squeeze and let himself be lead toward the ladder up to their bedroom. He sighed, tired just thinking about the climb, however brief. Sportacus gave him a kiss for encouragement and Robbie dragged himself up the ladder and nearly collapsed on top of the bed upon reaching it.

“Oh, Robbie,” Sportacus cooed with a slight laugh. “You still have your shoes on.”

Robbie felt his husband—lifemate—carefully remove his shoes and spats. He then felt Sportacus’ hand tap gently at his side, pushing ever so slightly to encourage him to roll over. He moaned in protest but acquiesced anyway. Sportacus shook his head, smiled, and started to unbutton Robbie’s vest.

“Do I really need to undress you myself?” Sportacus teased.

Robbie opened his eyes and smiled lightly. “Maybe. We could always try out your new birthday present,” he pointed out.

The hero’s face immediately turned a bright shade of pink. “There were _children_ , Robbie!” he scolded.

“And you have excellent reflexes,” Robbie pointed out.

“ _Robbie!_ ” Sportacus pouted and Robbie just smiled all the more.

“It was blue. Made me think of you. I know you like it, even if you won’t admit it.”

His partner sighed and shook his head, though Robbie caught sight of the smile Sportacus was trying to hide. The elf landed a kiss on Robbie’s stomach and patted his thigh before turning away and leaving Robbie pouting this time.

“I am going to go brush my teeth. You should too…at least get changed.”

Robbie sighed and listened to the other man leave the room. He layed there for a few minutes before finally relenting, changing into his sleepwear and curling up in bed to wait for his elf to return. Sportacus pulled himself back up the ladder, launched into a flip, and landed next to Robbie. He leaned over, kissed the man on the cheek, and pulled the blankets up to his chin.

“Show off,” Robbie mumbled instinctively.

Sportacus just grinned and nestled down to sleep. He reopened one eye, then the other, and watched the man next to him stare vacantly up at the ceiling for a moment.

“Are you going to be alright, Robbie?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.”

“Good night, Robbie. I love you.”

Sportacus kissed his man’s cheek. The villain turned to look at him.

“I love you, too, Sportaloon.”

He leaned over and let their lips touch. Sportacus welcomed the sensation and felt himself able to again relax after such a stressful evening. At least Robbie was alright. The two parted. Sportacus nestled into his pillow and closed his eyes. A muted chime rang from the small clock on the nearby wall, signaling the man’s bedtime had arrived.

“Do you want the stars tonight?” Robbie asked quietly.

Sportacus smiled sleepily, eyes still closed. “Please,” he mumbled contently.

Robbie leaned over to his bedside table and picked up the small remote sitting there. He pointed it at the ceiling and pressed the largest button available before setting it back down. He got himself comfortable as the ceiling slipped away to reveal the window-like dome positioned above the bed. Robbie stared up at the night sky overhead. It was cloudy, but he could still see the shimmer of the moon trying to force its way through the obstructions.

“Hey, Sportacus? Are you awake?”

“No,” came a sleepy yawn from his side.

“I’m sorry if I ruined your birthday.”

A tan hand snaked out from under the covers in search of Robbie’s. He took it gladly and gave it a squeeze.

“You didn’t.”

Robbie rubbed his thumb over the back of Sportacus’ hand, comforted just by having the man so close. Maybe that’s what being lifemates felt like…comfort knowing the other person was there, and would always be.

“Hey…Sportacus?” Robbie whispered.

“Hmm?”

“I…I still don’t like the fact that your life’s shortened b-because of me,” Robbie said slowly as he watched the shine of the partially-hidden moon above. “But, uh, it’s nice that...I guess it’s nice knowing however much time we have…we have together.”

“No one knows how much time they have,” Sportacus mumbled sleepily into his pillow. “We didn’t before and we still don’t,” he pointed out.

“Hmm.” Robbie thought on that.

He had to admit it; Sportacus was right. Neither of them knew how long they were going to live before this whole lifemates thing happened, and…that was still the truth. They could have two years or two hundred. Maybe…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, then. At least he wouldn’t be a decrepit old man for half of it while Sportacus was still bouncing off the walls and kicking soccer balls in his face. He and Sportacus may not know how long they had together, but Robbie decided then that he would make the absolute most of that time. And he would spend all he could of it with the man he loved, even if it meant having to endure future parties.

“Oh drat!” Robbie suddenly yelled at the sky, sending the moon scurrying for another cloud.

“Robbie?” Sportacus asked, forcing an eye open. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re fifty-five!” the villain whined.

“…Yes?”

“You never had a party for your fiftieth! Darnit, Sportadunce, that’s a milestone year. You should have said something sooner!”

An exhausted giggle and a snort escaped Sportacus’ pillow as he pressed his face into it.

Robbie sighed. “You laugh now, but you’d better prepare yourself for one heck of a one-hundredth party to make up for it. Now that I know I’ll be here for it we are going all-out and you’re going to ensure _all of it_.”

“Okay, Robbie.”

He smiled and squeezed the sleepy hero’s hand. Sportacus weakly tried to reciprocate, but fatigue was clearly distracting him from the task. Robbie sighed and settled in. He probably wouldn’t be able to sleep for some time, but at least he had Sportacus’ deep breathing for company.

It was amazing, he realized, the path that had lead him to laying where he was. All of the schemes, all of the misplaced anger and confusion that eventually gave way to concern and admiration. And now they were _lifemates_ , a concept so new and yet so familiar. Robbie looked over at his partner and smiled. There was no one else in the world Robbie would rather have for his lifemate…and he had been lucky enough to find him.

**Author's Note:**

> For reference, this is the cake Robbie's making:  
> https://food52.com/blog/17727-what-unexpected-ingredient-makes-this-cake-creamy-not-too-sweet
> 
> I haven't tried it myself, but I really want to!


End file.
